


Rehabilitation

by Dacro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-15
Updated: 2007-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dacro/pseuds/Dacro





	Rehabilitation

Title: Rehabilitation  
Author: [](http://dacro.livejournal.com/profile)[**dacro**](http://dacro.livejournal.com/)  
Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Rating: R  
Genre: Angst, Prison setting  
Warnings: Implied rape/hate sex, injustice, language  
Words: 4,800  
Beta army: [](http://saladbats.livejournal.com/profile)[**saladbats**](http://saladbats.livejournal.com/) , [](http://joanwilder.livejournal.com/profile)[**joanwilder**](http://joanwilder.livejournal.com/) , and [](http://dracofiend.livejournal.com/profile)[**dracofiend**](http://dracofiend.livejournal.com/).  
Disclaimer: World of HP – so not mine.  
Original Request: From [](http://charlotteschaos.livejournal.com/profile)[**charlotteschaos**](http://charlotteschaos.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/profile)[**serpentinelion**](http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/) Secrets and wishes fest. #60. **The war is over, but because the Order was never officially sanctioned by the Ministry, the members are found to be just as guilty of war crimes as the Death Eaters. Thus, Harry is sent to Azkaban for murder. He is put into a cell with an unredeemed Death Eater named... all together now... Draco Malfoy.**  
A/N: I know I said that my fics tended to stray into the flangsty side of things, but this one got bitten by the angsty bug and caught a bad case of UST. *blush*  
I played with the prompt a bit, destroyed Azkaban, and moved the boys to a rehabilitation facility, but I hope it still hits the spot. I loved exploring this universe!  
Thanks to [](http://joanwilder.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://joanwilder.livejournal.com/)**joanwilder** for her help with the title.  
Proverbs used in this fic were found at: motivationalquotes.com  
ETA: written beofre Deathly Hallows

  


Rehabilitation

"Harry James Potter is sentenced to spend a maximum of thirty years less a day in the Specularis Rehabilitation Facility."

Whispers raced around the benches as Hermione leapt to her feet. "No!"

"Thirty years?" Harry asked in disbelief, pulling at the restraints around his wrists. "What – you can't just–"

Percy ignored Harry's protests and continued. "—unless the Assessment Council pronounces him to be fully rehabilitated. In such a case, he will be eligible for release after serving a third of his maximum sentence."

The courtroom erupted with sound, but Harry couldn't pull his focus from the only group who remained quiet: the rows of faces behind Percy's throne-like chair. Some of them looked as if they were satisfied with the judgement, but others hung their heads, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Percy raised his hand for silence, his voluminous sleeve bunching up at the elbow. The din dropped to a low hum. "The time for discussion has passed."

Harry forced his mouth to attempt another defence. "But the Order, we–"

Percy cut across Harry's protests, "—did not have permission from the Ministry to undertake any movement against the former Dark Lord or the group called the Death Eaters."

"The ruling is unjust!" someone yelled from the back of the room. "If it wasn't for Harry Potter, we would still all be living in fear! He killed –"

Percy stood, and the voice fell silent. "Yes, he did. He killed without authorization, and has been judged according to our laws in regards to that crime."

"That's horse dung! He's a hero, and you know it!" Fred shouted from the first row.

"That is quite enough!" said an ancient wizard sitting to the right of Percy, slapping his withered hand on the table-top in warning.

Percy's lips thinned. "Mr Potter's contribution in the war against You Know Who was paramount; however, that is not the matter up for discussion. Our concern lies with the hundreds of families who have petitioned the Ministry to bring justice for the slaughter at Azkaban."

"It collapsed while we were fighting! That wasn't my fault!" Harry shouted.

"The Wizengamot has ruled, and the sentence has been read." Each person sitting on the panel of wizards and witches nodded. "Therefore, Harry James Potter will serve his term under the authority of the head of the new Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Delores Jane Umbridge."

Ginny and Ron swore in unison.

She appeared from nowhere at Harry's shoulder, clutching her wand in one hand, and a pink leather handbag in the other. She wore a smirk of pure victory. "Thank you, Chief Warlock Weasley. Mr Potter will be transferred to our facility immediately."

Harry searched the crowd for Remus who was making his way down his row toward the front, where Percy was standing with both arms raised in warning.

"Wait! Don't I have the right to appeal?" Harry asked, yelling over the commotion.

"No, Mr Potter, you do not," Umbridge said cheerily in his ear. "The decision is final."

A strange mix of protest and support rose up from the spectators once more.

"At least give him time to say good-bye!"

"—should have ten years for each person he killed!"

"You're all daft! Why are you standing for this?"

"We'll figure something out, Harry. Don't worry."

"—what about the others with him? Shouldn't they be tried as well?"

"He's innocent!"

"Send him away!"

His friends were distracted with questioning Percy, but as Umbridge's wand pressed between Harry's ribs, his eyes locked with Ginny's. She was crying.

It wasn't until he felt himself being magically tugged from the room that reality closed in on his panicked mind, and his dreams of living a normal life without Voldemort's dark presence shattered.

Captivity was his prize for freeing the world. He would have laughed bitterly, but no sound came out. His lungs and throat were painfully filled to bursting with so much emotion, he doubted he would ever breathe again.

~*~

The admitting process passed in a blur, interrupted occasionally by someone asking him to take something off, put something on, and 'sign here, Resident Potter'.

Something persistently poked at the back of his mind, a silent urge to fight, to escape, but he brushed it into the shadows, telling himself that there wasn't much he could do, surrounded by guards and holding his broken wand.

 _Hermione will find a way to fix this – or Remus. Just hang on. You've been through worse._ , he told himself as magical clippers sheared away his troublesome hair.

A guard dressed in the same clean, white uniforms as the polite office clerks indicated that Harry was to leave the broken pieces of his wand behind before being directed to his _habitat_ and introduced to his roommate. He stiffly obeyed, his heart clenching painfully.

He tried to think of his snapped wand as just a piece of wood, but his mind wasn't easily deceived. Memories came to him of holding it in his small hands for the first time, trying his first spell, mastering his Patronus – the moment it first connected with Voldemort's…

He tossed his broken wand into the metal bin. The clatter cleared Harry's thoughts like a slap to the face, although his tears were still threatening to spill. He swallowed down his emotion and looked around the room properly for the first time.

Azkaban it wasn't, and yet something about the facility made him uneasy and nervous anyway.

Everything was clean, white, organised and modern. Soft music filled the flower-scented air, and the walls displayed peaceful landscapes and motivational quotes. The mounted proverb closest to him read, _Adversity and loss make a man wise_.

A hand closed over his elbow.

"This way, Resident Potter."

~*~

The temperature in the Holding Chamber would have been perfect if Harry had been a bowl of strawberries, or a pitcher of pumpkin juice. He shivered as his bare feet slapped against the icy surface of the floor.

He followed the guard down endless glass hallways, past identical transparent cells filled with various men dressed in the same white cotton pyjama-type clothes Harry now wore. He was sure he must have known some of them, but it was hard to tell. Hands and faces pressed against the glass, fogging up the surface, blurring their individual features.

Harry kept walking, ignoring calls and whistles, trying to focus on how wonderful the sun would feel on his chilled skin as soon as Hermione had secured his release.

~*~

They entered his cell, undistinguishable from the others, except for the number 190 that shimmered in a silver frame above the door.

"Have a seat," the guard said, gesturing vaguely to the right side of the entrance area that held a gleaming-white toilet and small pedestal sink. "There're a few things that need going over."

Harry chose to sit on the two low stairs in front of him, but the guard didn't seem to mind, only began listing a set of regulations that seemed to bounce off the hard, cold surfaces and disappear out the door before reaching Harry's ears. His eyes fell to the area across from the toilet that was empty except for a round drain decorated with narrow silver bars. He imagined himself transforming into a Patronus that would slip through the small slits in the floor and out to freedom.

The man mentioned something about earning meals, but Harry tuned him out in favour of inspecting the rest of the cell. The glass inside the cell only seemed to work one way. When he turned his gaze to the dividing walls he shared with the neighbouring habitats, his own reflection stared back.

It was someone he didn't recognise. His hand went automatically to his too-white scalp, the dark stubble scratching his fingers where his hair should have been. There was no mirror when it had been cut, and he silently wondered if looking at this pitiful version of himself reflected in every surface was part of the punishment.

Without the protection of an unruly fringe, his scar stood out like Ron surrounded by Fleur's relatives. In contrast, the green of his eyes was so dark they almost looked black. He searched to find a trace of his mother there, but only a stranger stared back.

He pulled his eyes away from the wall, and looked behind him instead. There really wasn't too much more to the shoebox-shaped room, except the stairs where he sat that led from the entrance to a sleeping area. The two sides were identical: two white mattresses sunken into the floor separated by a strip of the same cold tile that covered the bathroom area and the stairs.

As if to break the monochromatic scene, a young man sat cross-legged atop the mattress on the left side, back to the glass wall, wrapped in a black blanket, shaved head bent low.

Harry wrung his hands in his lap, and tried to focus again on what the guard was saying.

"—the day supervisor for this wing. I'll be the one escorting you to your therapy appointment at seven tomorrow morning. You have this evening to acquaint yourself with your habitat and get to know your roommate, but from what I hear, you already know Resident Malfoy. Isn't that right?"

Harry's stomach turned to stone as the figure on the bed stirred at the sound of his name. White-hot hatred flared behind deceptively ice-grey eyes, and yet a chilling smile formed itself on his pale lips. Harry matched the glare, hoping Malfoy could feel the warmth of his own anger over the chill air.

The guard continued, oblivious to the silent war that had just marched forward under his nose. "Best of luck on your rehabilitation, Resident Potter. Just follow the order of things, and you'll be just fine."

Harry nodded robotically as the man left and the glass door resealed itself over the opening. When he looked back towards Malfoy, he was surprised to see him standing on the top stair, inches away, holding his blanket open.

"Welcome to the aquarium, Potter."

Before Harry could move, Malfoy had the blanket over his head. Harry's glasses fell to the floor. Suddenly fists were slamming into his stomach and face. His body reacted automatically, slowed by the numbing cold of the room, but it was enough until his mind finally caught on to what was happening.

He stumbled blindly towards where he hoped the sink would be, tugging the rough fabric, and fighting back where he could. He landed a knee to something solid, and Malfoy choked out a muffled groan.

His leg brushed against the toilet, and he reached out for a fistful of Malfoy's uniform, spinning him around until he was pinned against the sink, kicking and swearing. One of his flailing limbs became tangled in the blanket. With one sharp tug, it was thrown to the floor, and Malfoy stopped his squirming.

They stared at each other.

A spot of blood dripped from the corner of Malfoy's mouth, and his bottom lip was puffy from one of Harry's blind punches. He looked so odd with his head shaved as well, and yet, it seemed to Harry, a perfect look for someone who had barely escaped the collapse of Azkaban, and had now gone mad from the unfairness of being back in a cage once more, even though it was a prettier cage than the one he'd last inhabited.

Blood pounded in Harry's ears, and his lungs stung from the unexpected exercise mixed with the frosty air. Malfoy pushed out, and Harry stumbled backward from the force of it, allowing him to scoop up the blanket and make his way back to his bed as if nothing had happened.

A soft gong from a bell broke the strange silence, and a sweet, girlish voice poured into the room – a voice Harry knew and hated – Umbridge's: "Attention Resident Potter, and Resident Malfoy. You have been given a demerit each for fighting, and will forfeit the evening meal to reflect on your behaviour. You will begin your reflection in ten minutes."

Harry studied his rumpled appearance in the glass. "Does that mean no food tonight?"

"It was worth it," Malfoy said, wrapping himself in his blanket once again, and poking a finger at his swollen lip.

A strange thought moved through Harry's mind as he looked at his roommate. He still hated Malfoy, still wanted him to suffer, but at the same time, their fight had broken the ice and had set them back on common ground once more. Harry heard Hermione's voice telling him how unhealthy and immature it was to communicate with fists and aggression, but he knew that getting it out now was the only way they were going to survive being locked in a room together for however long it would take until his friends got him out.

Harry collected his glasses from the floor, sat on his bed, and began to shiver. "When does my blanket get here?"

"When you've earned it."

Harry opened his mouth to ask what he meant, when the hated voice returned.

"Resident Potter, Resident Malfoy – begin your reflection now."

Malfoy locked his gaze on Harry.

"I have a new roommate – Resident Potter. He and I attended Hogwarts together, but we were not the best of friends. I am curious to know why he's sharing my habitat, but I'm sure I will discover something interesting when it's his turn for reflection. I regret starting the fight. It will not happen again." After a pause, he tipped his chin to Harry. "Your turn."

"I don't have anything to say."

"Wrong answer, Potter."

Without warning, the bed below Harry vanished. He plunged into a tank of freezing water, gasping and choking with the sudden shock. His mind was on fire as his body stiffened. In the next instant, he was panting on the tile floor, shaking violently, and vomiting into the floor drain.

Through his spinning panic, he heard Malfoy's voice somewhere above him.

"I think he's ready to reflect now."

"Y-yes. Fine," Harry coughed.

Umbridge's voice filled the room once more. "Very well. Stand up, Resident Potter."

He spit more water out onto the floor, and managed to pull himself to his knees, but the combined force of his tremors, and the refusal of his lungs to work as they did before his swim, kept Harry floor-bound.

"Help your roommate, Resident Malfoy."

Hands hooked under his arms and pulled him backward to sit on the steps. Next, he was yanked forward by his hands until he was standing on weak legs once more.

There was a soft rustling sound, and then he was dry once again, the air around him slightly warmer. He didn't know what would happen if he delayed any longer, so he started to speak, even though his jaw was sore and his teeth still clattered together.

"I – I heard that Voldemort was planning another break-out at Azkaban, so I went there, fought him, killed him, and then the place fell in on us. I'm here because the bloody Wizengamot thinks that it's my fault that most of the prisoners died, and because I didn't have Ministry approval to kill the bastard who's murdered hundreds of people, including my family and pretty much everyone I've ever cared about!"

"And..." she prompted.

Harry had been so caught up in his rant that he had forgotten anyone was listening at all. He stared blankly at Malfoy for some indication of what else she wanted from him.

"Fighting is wrong," Malfoy whispered before walking back to his bed.

"Oh. And fighting is wrong," Harry repeated flatly.

"Precisely. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen."

~*~

The call for everyone to go to bed had been made hours ago, or so it seemed to Harry, and yet the lights were still on. Malfoy had obediently curled up under his blanket and turned his back to Harry, but didn't seem to be asleep just yet.

"Don't they turn off the lights?"

"Yes."

"Just not today?" Harry asked, his patience fading again.

He stared at Malfoy's warm blanket and wondered why it took so little for them to set each other off. He had dealt with other people who required more patience, and had come out the other side mostly intact, but it had always been Malfoy who could work one tiny sliver into an infection by just simply being in the same room.

"When she leaves the facility, the lights go out," he whispered so quietly that Harry nearly missed the utterance.

Harry stretched out on his cold mattress, but was curled into a ball only moments later; whether it was from the chill in the room, the ache from his empty belly, or from his growing fear of spending his first night in prison, he didn't know. He tried closing his eyes, but scenes from the courtroom kept dancing behind his eyelids. When the lights finally switched off, a red glow from the end of the room stole his attention away from the memory of Remus trying to reach him before vanishing from the room.

A phrase, similar to those in the entrance hall, had appeared on the wall.

_What you build easily will fall quickly._

Harry only had a moment to study it before the rustle of fabric turned his attention to Malfoy who was crawling toward him, awash in the dim red light of the proverb.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, unsettled by the predatory smile Malfoy wore.

"It's time for your proper welcome."

A chill ran through Harry's heart that had nothing to do with the room temperature. He sat up and pulled his knees to his chest as Malfoy continued his advance onto the bed.

"Get off," Harry said, trying to sound threatening and indifferent at the same time.

Malfoy's hand was on his shirt and tugging him sideways before Harry could offer up much of a defence. With the wall still at his back, he kicked out, but Malfoy was already climbing over him, moving quickly, as if he'd already thought out Harry's every move, and had a counter action planned for each one.

Within seconds, Harry was flat on his back with his arms pinned above his head, and his legs trapped between Malfoy's thighs. He struggled, lungs burning with exertion so soon after the abuse of the freezing water, but he didn't have the strength to twist out of the strong grip once the red-tinged body was locked over him.

"I think it's only proper that you be initiated the same way I was."

Harry couldn't stop the shiver that ran over his skin.

Malfoy pushed out with his knees, bringing their hips together, laughing softly when Harry gasped at the contact. Malfoy hummed and rolled his hips again.

Harry was no stranger to the press of another man against him. It had been a while, but he wasn't desperate enough to want any sort of – whatever this was – from Malfoy, even though his body begged him to notice how hot and firm Malfoy felt, pressed against him through the light trousers.

"Good boy," Malfoy whispered, interpreting Harry's stillness as acceptance. "Roll over."

The pressure eased up around his wrists, allowing the blood to return to his fingers. He pretended to obey just long enough to free his right arm, and push it into Malfoy's sternum on his way around. He slid to the side, but recaptured Harry's hand within seconds.

Malfoy was at a disadvantage, sandwiched between Harry in front of him, and the glass wall at his back. It would only take one well-placed knee between his legs for Harry to hurt him and free up his own hands. His leg was sliding backward for the thrust when Malfoy suddenly threw his entire weight forward, landing Harry on his back once more.

Malfoy's lips were on his ear before Harry realised his plan had failed.

"What's wrong, Potter?" he panted, breath hot against Harry's flushed skin. "A little sodomy between enemies too good for you?"

Harry took in as much breath as he could with Malfoy's weight crushing his chest. "Guard!"

Malfoy's laugh bounced around the cell. "Oh, don't be fooled by the manners. They've been paid well to ignore whatever happens once the lights are out."

_Fuck!_

"I don't know what's got you so tense, Potter. There'll be no evidence left by morning for her to find. It's a good arrangement, one you'll come to love, eventually."

Harry growled and tried to struggle out of his grip. "I'm not –"

Malfoy smirked and shifted his lower body purposely. "That's interesting, because I think you are. I _know_ you are. You'd be surprised how much accurate information you can retrieve from the guards for the right price. Some of them claim one thing in the daylight, but when they visit me after dark, I can make them confess anything."

"You're a whore," Harry shouted up at him.

"And you're already well-acquainted with what I want, so what's the fucking problem? Stop fighting and listen!"

For reasons unknown to him, Harry stilled.

"Better," Malfoy said. "Here's the truth, Potter. It'll either be me now, or someone less desirable in the future. If you're with me, no one else will touch you while you're here. Go it alone, and you'll have no protection."

Harry's heart pounded without any sign of slowing down. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because you have no choice."

Harry scoffed, "I thought you'd be thrilled at the thought of someone else – hurting me."

"I'm surprisingly jealous, Potter." He dragged a warm, wet tongue up Harry's throat. "I want the chance to hurt you first."

Harry swallowed and tried to quiet the warning bells in his head. He gave another feeble push up with his arms, but the last attempt had taken almost everything from him. He cracked inside, trying to decide how much pride he was willing to part with.

Malfoy's mouth hovered above his shoulder, causing gooseflesh to spring up.

"Oh yes, you'll be safe here with me for a long time. I don't foresee you taking well to rehabilitation."

Harry shook under Malfoy's weight. "I'll be out before the end of the week."

Malfoy pulled back until he was looking down at Harry once more, the eerie red light reflected in his eyes like blood on water.

"You think this is all some terrible mistake, don't you? From what I've heard, many a string was pulled to get you out of the picture."

"What?" Harry asked in shock.

"It's all politics, Potter. I don't care for details as long as I get something more than information in return for spreading my _banquet_ out for the guards."

Harry gasped for air once more. "You – you did this?"

Malfoy laughed softly. "Hardly. What I do know is I've been without proper companionship since you killed my former roommate, and now, I have you. Clearly someone is rewarding me for my excellent _behaviour_ , while at the same time taking you out of proper society. Everyone wins."

"And what do I win?" Harry asked, anger flaring up again.

The fury melted into inappropriate pleasure as Malfoy ground his hips harder against his awakening erection.

"The privilege of my skills, and the security of my protection. We've gone over this already. I'll try to take your comfort into consideration, although you don't deserve it, and I shouldn't on principle, since Dolohov wasn't as generous with me."

"I don't bottom," Harry said suddenly, trying to figure out why it mattered since he was never going to allow Malfoy to touch him once his strength returned.

"You do since you fucked up my life, Potter," he snapped, clamping his hands tighter around Harry's numbing wrists. "This is about power – who possesses it, and who doesn't. There's an order to things here. The quicker you learn that, the more tolerable your stay will be."

The red glow was replaced with blue. Malfoy looked up and swore. In one swift motion he rolled off Harry, and landed on his own bed, facing the wall.

Harry slowly turned himself over and read the flashing message for himself. There was only one word, _Returning_ , and numbers counting down from five. He didn't want to ask Malfoy what was happening, but braced for the worst for when the blue number two transitioned to _one_.

The lights came on.

Harry let go the breath he'd been holding in. He was safe from Malfoy – for a few minutes, at least.

A thousand of scenarios for why Umbridge would return so soon ran through his mind: the best being that she had simply forgotten something, and the worst being that she was aware of Malfoy's proposal and wanted to watch. He shook his head to dislodge the latter, and attempted to reassure himself that his imagination was running away with him, and that the most unpleasant part of the night was over.

"Attention, Resident Potter," Umbridge said, her voice sounding overly sugary. "I have a letter in my possession that I believe someone was attempting to smuggle to you."

Harry gave up the illusion of sleep, and sat up quickly.

"We do allow post that has been approved by either myself or this facility's board of governors to be distributed to all of our residents, so please tell your _friends_ that if they wish to communicate with you by post, to please go through the proper channels."

He knew he'd never see the letter, but it was good to know that at least someone – beyond Malfoy and Umbridge – hadn't forgotten him.

Harry stared at Malfoy's bundled form, and suddenly felt hollow – as if all the events of the day had finally gathered together above his head, enclosing him in the belly of the stifling black bin bag of his new life.

"—barely a note, so I see no harm in allowing you to see it."

He looked up when her trail of words suddenly stopped, and a very wrinkled slip of parchment appeared in his upturned palm.

He smoothed it out, hands shaking, as he recognised Hermione's handwriting. He heard her voice in his mind as he read.

_We tried to file an appeal, but the Wizengamot locks all multiple murder cases after the trial. According to the archives, Sirius' file was bound by the same law._

_Percy is adamant that you'll be released when Umbridge declares you 'rehabilitated', or until a third of your time has been served, but that's not for another nine years._

_We're doing all we can, but the Ministry isn't willing to negotiate. At least with Azkaban gone, you won't have to go through what Sirius did. I hate the thought of what would have happened to you there._

_Everyone wishes they could see you, but visitors aren't allowed until further along in the rehabilitation. The witch I questioned said at least three years, but I'm working to change that – we all are._

_I'm so sorry, Harry._

Harry carefully folded the note, walked to the entrance, and slid it into the drain. He sat on the steps for a moment, letting Hermione' words roll around several times before whispering 'goodbye' into the chilly air. He visualised the heavy word hitting the floor, and following the parchment down through the shiny slots.

A folded blanket that matched Malfoy's appeared beside him from out of nowhere. He draped it over his shoulders, walked silently back to his bed and curled up – overlapping his feet to keep them warm.

Darkness returned a few minutes later, along with the soft red glow of the message light. He looked up, unsurprised, to see a new phrase reflected off of every wall.

_If you destroy a bridge, be sure you can swim._

Numbness settled over him, but a few tears still managed to run down his cheeks and vanish into the fabric below.

He made a decision, wiped his face clean, and pulled off his shirt.

Malfoy turned to face him.

"I'm cold," Harry whispered.

Malfoy threw his blanket aside, removed his own clothing, and was back on Harry's bed within seconds. His long fingers reached hungrily for Harry's trousers.

"I'll warm you up."

~*~


End file.
